


The Great Pretender

by hurinhouse



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurinhouse/pseuds/hurinhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death." ~ Omar N. Bradley</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Pretender

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: up through In the Wind

The scrubs are a perfect fit. I'd be grateful in other circumstances.

"Let's go."

"I was never here, Mr. Vader. I only helped for Neal."   
And the squirrel's gone. Loyal, but a coward.

Memories blur together as I sneak up the stairwell. Gunshots mixed with skinned knees and tiny hugs and budding games of Pretend. Thank God I kept Sam's email address.

Empty. The room is empty but for the bed. Machines suck in and out with each shaky breath, count each heartbeat like a ticking bomb. 

When I finally reach him his hand is cold, his skin white against the bruises, against the blood loss and how does a man survive throwing himself off a bridge? No wonder his mother took him away from me.

Lashes bob until they steady, and blue eyes take focus. 

"What are you doing here?" His voice is rough, shaky. He tries to pull his hand away but it's strapped to the rail and heavy blankets weigh him down. 

"Neal. Why did you do this?"

His head lolls to the side and he stares out the window, eyes hollow. His words are flat, like it's just a matter of time before he checks out, "You were a detective. Figure it out."

"Son, you're stronger than this. To throw your life away- "

"Son?" His laugh is sharp and bitter. 

"I didn't want to hurt you."

He shakes his head and I see my stubbornness, "Everything you've told me is a lie."

"I'm telling the truth now."

He turns back to me, daring, begging for the truth for once in his life. "Prove it."   
How can I deny him?

"Pratt had his gun on me, Neal. I saw his finger squeeze and I just reacted. Even this many years from the force doesn't erase those instincts."

"Those instincts include letting an innocent man take the fall?"

It was a mistake to come here. I step back and Neal's hand tightens around mine.

"Peter tried to help you and he's going to prison for something you did."

"He is. But I can't go back." 

As soon as the door bursts open I know. Four agents frisk me while that female agent frees Neal's hands and lifts a wire from his chest. "We got it, Neal." 

My son watches the FBI cuff me. He pulls off tape and tubes, climbs out of the blankets. And then he stands. Strong and healthy. 

"You conned your own father?"

His voice carries a lifetime of heartache; defiant, bitter. "Just a game of Pretend. Dad."


End file.
